


Long Days, Late Nights

by IndigothRabbitzi



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotions, Gavin can't handle emotions, Gavin has a panic attack, M/M, Mental Breakdown, RK900 has no name yet, Rated for the swearing Gavin does, Software Instabilities, Tears, Trauma kinda??, Yeah trauma, people care about Gavin and he hates it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 15:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16065605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigothRabbitzi/pseuds/IndigothRabbitzi
Summary: “Look, you just don’t fucking get it. You’re a machine, you can have bad memories and all that shit erased if necessary. Me? I can’t forget.” More tears pricked at the corners of Gavin’s eyes. Some of them spilled over the edge and trailed down his cheeks. “I know it doesn’t seem like much. Yeah, they’re just dead bodies and gross crime scenes. The same shit I signed up for and always see when I’m out in the field. But I’ve seen so much of it. And after a while...” His legs started to tremble a bit. “After a while, you either get used to it, or it eats you alive.”Some Reed900 that spawned from classroom boredom. Follows the headcanon that Gavin owns cats, along with my own headcanon that sometimes, his job gets to him a little more than it gets to his coworkers.





	Long Days, Late Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Ack, this is the first story I've written in a very long time. I miss being an author on the side, hopefully this won't be my last thing. Feel free to leave constructive criticisms in the comments, I'll gladly accept them.
> 
> Also, throughout the entire story, I refer to RK900 as RK900, as I have yet to settle on a name I like for him. There are just...so many, pft (I'm sort of torn between Richard and Conan, and if I make a decision soon, I may go back and revise this to include whatever name I choose).
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Long days, late nights. The same routine, every single second of the week. For some people, a good, orderly schedule that rarely changed was absolutely perfect. For others, it drove them insane, putting them in a pit of despair. Gavin Reed was one of those people. To said detective, it was practically torture.

Gavin would sit at his desk, performing his usual duties; filing reports he never bothered to do in the past, finding new ways to insult or belittle his coworkers, or practically drowning himself in coffee whenever he had the chance. Out in the field wasn't all too different, aside from the lack of paperwork, limited supply of coffee, and occasional arrest or suspect chase. Most people would be thankful to have a schedule that was almost always as predictable as classic slasher films.

However, for some reason, it messed with Gavin mentally. Lately, he had found himself becoming distracted for long periods with a frightening ease. He would sit there, mindlessly staring at his screen or sipping his coffee, buried deep in his thoughts. He would never hear anything around him, not even when addressed by name. When asked if he was okay, he simply shrugged, never bothering to grace the question with an actual answer.

But all of this wasn't even what made him consider his work so hellish.

No, that specific thing was...

"Detective Reed."

_Fuck._

He turned back, his eyes meeting with those same piercing, gray-blue eyes which infuriated him so often.

"Whad'ya want now?"

RK900 loomed over him as per usual, holding a large stack of papers and folders. "I was instructed to provide you with the rest of the evening's work load," he replied flatly, practically tossing the mess onto the desk surface as he finished speaking. Gavin's nose wrinkled in disgust, but he honestly wasn't certain if it was due to the new paperwork or the android standing in his personal space.

"How have you not figured out I don't bother with this shit at the end of my shift?" he questioned, raising his eyebrow as if the oncoming answer were the result of a dare.

RK900's LED flashed and spun yellow for a moment before a small, confident smile crossed his synthetic lips. "I was unaware you did your desk work at all, Detective," he retorted. Gavin's face heated up and his eyebrows knitted together as anger rushed through his body, and for half a second, he could have sworn he saw the android get some kind of pleasure out of his irritation.

"God, you know what?" He stood up, elevating himself onto his tip toes in an attempt to make himself more threatening. In a low growl, he whispered, "Why not make yourself useful and get me another coffee, you goddamn tin can?"

"My scanners indicate that there is nothing wrong with your legs. Therefore, I believe you are more than capable of getting your own coffee, Detective." He paused to place his arms behind his back. "Perhaps you should 'lay off it', as you say. This much caffeine is unhealthy for a man of your size."

The sheer amount of bold sass was too much for him to handle. Gavin opened his mouth as though he were about to yell, yet when he tried, his mind drew a blank, leaving the android with a small amount of newfound satisfaction. Unable to even utter a successful curse, he relaxed and began to walk away, muttering incoherent gibberish to himself. He could feel RK900 piercing daggers into him with his eyes, well aware that the plastic prick was more than likely sporting that same smirk he gained whenever he "won" an argument. While standing at the coffee maker, he tried his best to brush it off.

Soon, though, he caught sight of the time: exactly one hour before his shift was to end. Having grown impatient, he decided that was close enough. Gavin turned and began to walk out of the precinct all together. He knew his assigned partner was staring him down again as he did, but he managed to ignore it while making his way to the exit.

"Your shift does not end for another hour, Detective. I don’t recommend leaving, unless, of course, you are sick or injured."

His eyes rolled back before he could manage to think about doing so. "Did I ask for your input?" he snapped back, stopping and glancing over his shoulder to glare. Again, he was ignoring the fact that someone (or, _something,_ in this case) cared about his well-being; all he heard was the oncoming headache he knew it would produce.  RK900 only stood there, sporting a blank expression on his face. Gavin sneered. "That's what I thought. Why don't you just go off and do whatever it is you do when I'm not around and leave me the hell alone?"

The taller of the duo continued to stand there. Gavin took that as a "Yes, Detective," and proceeded to exit the building; meanwhile, RK900 sorted the papers which had been thrown carelessly onto the desk, placing them precisely on the very edge of it.

↤↤↤↤↤ -x- ↦↦↦↦↦

When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, Gavin found his apartment to be strangely cold. He flipped the light switch, causing the lights to flicker to life. They illuminated the room in their soft, white-yellow glow. The room itself was fairly clean; the only things out of place were the empty cigarette packs and the single beer bottle on the coffee table.

 _I could have sworn I picked those up this morning,_ he thought to himself. As he closed the door, he convinced himself his cats had probably been playing with the objects, and breathed a sigh of relief once remembering they were empty. Gavin made his way to the space heater, taking careful steps in case one of his furry companions were to leap out at him unexpectedly. Once there, he adjusted the temperature a little. The small machine came to life, humming softly with an occasional line of click sounds mixing together into a strange, yet welcoming harmony.

"That's more like it." He set his belongings down and went into the small kitchen-like area, checking his cats' food bowls. Half-full, as he expected. He glanced around, still unable to locate said animals, but he shrugged it off and wandered off to the bedroom. There, he began changing his clothes, exchanging his already casual wear for some sweatpants and a loose-fitting T-shirt. Afterwards, the man ventured back out into the kitchen. The faint, unmistakable sound of soft crunching could be heard, and he knew at least one of his cats had wandered back for a snack. When he went to check, however, he was slightly alarmed.

Both cats were there, and that was normal. In fact, it was expected. However, their bowls were now full, and he _knew_ he hadn't filled them before changing his clothes.

"The fuck..." Gavin raised an eyebrow. The orange cat glanced up at him, then immediately went back to eating. As he further surveyed the scene, he noticed the bag was closed differently. Usually, he would twist them and hold them closed with a clothes pin. However, it was neatly rolled down and pinned; in fact, it was _perfectly_ rolled down. This was, by no means, how he closed the bags he hoarded in his house.

For some reason, Gavin found himself thinking about a multitude of different things at one time; the stack of papers he had left on his desk, how strongly he craved a cigarette (or five), how badly his jacket needed to be washed. Most of these thoughts were fairly insignificant; there were just so many at once, however, that it began to overwhelm him a bit. His fingers twitched and he fell against the wall, sliding down it and slumping onto the floor a little loosely. Slowly, he raised his hands to his face and sighed softly, attempting to ground himself and regain his senses.

As the cats meowed and circled his legs, Gavin slowly started to return to reality, barely realizing he had zoned out again. One of them placed its paw on his thigh, and despite the fact he was still handling what seemed to be a miniature panic attack, he found himself smiling slightly. “Good kitty,” he whispered, patting both of them on the heads. Slowly, he began to stand up, balancing carefully so as not to fall over and injure himself. Once steady, Gavin decided it may be best to see himself to bed. He shuffled his feet across the floor, heading in that direction. When he arrived at the doorway, however, he noticed something else was different.  
  
The door was cracked open slightly. This was odd, considering he was sure he had closed it behind him before heading back to the kitchen. _What the fuck is going on here?_ He was through playing mind games with himself. Gavin felt around for his gun, then remembered he had tossed it into his room while he was changing his clothes. _Fuck me._ Unable to figure anything else out on the spot, he simply balled his hands into fists; he kicked his own bedroom door in, regardless of the fact that he really didn’t need to, and prepared himself for the initial hit. 

“I suggest you do not strike me, detective.”

Gavin froze. He knew that voice. That blunt, cold, robotic voice. 

_God, no._

He reached for the light switch, hitting it as quickly as he felt it. They came on, revealing his suspicions to be true. RK900, the bot he loathed so much, was standing in his room. Parts of it seemed cleaner and more organized than they had previously been, and he could only assume his intruder was the reason behind this.   
  
“What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?” Gavin all but screamed, his eyes narrowing as he asked his query. RK900 blinked a few times, then proceeded to pick up a shirt and fold it into a perfect, neat square.  
  
“I was sent here by Captain Fowler, Detective,” he responded calmly. His LED cycled yellow for a little bit as he processed the results of Gavin’s reaction; an increased heart rate, larger amount of sweat, and immediate tensing of over seventy-seven percent of his body. 

Gavin growled under his breath. “Why in the hell would he send you here? He knows I like my personal space.  Who the fuck does he think he his!?” That was a much more polite way of saying, “Fuck you and the other androids,  get out of my  space ,” and RK900 knew that. He opted to ignore this and decided to answer the way he had intended to originally.

“I wasn’t given specifics. However, I have the feeling it may be due to your more frequent lack of energy and work ethic.”

“My health is none of his fuckin’ concern. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.”  
  
RK900 stared at him, his LED still running yellow. He glanced up to the right corner of his vision, noting the software instability that popped up. However, he largely ignored it, choosing to instead focus on his mission: Assist Detective Reed with his mental issues. 

“Detective, please. I am simply here to help you. I really do believe you should accept my assistance-”

The Detective in question cut him off. “Shut the fuck up! He doesn’t need to worry about me, okay? There’s nothing wrong, I don’t need his help.” He stood up a little higher and placed a finger on his chest in a threatening manner. “I sure as shit don’t need  _your_ help, you god damn tin can!”

The LED began to cycle from yellow to red. RK900 was about to shout back at him, somehow annoyed by the man before him,  but then he noticed something odd. He squinted, analyzing what he noticed before him. Water, sodium, glucose, potassium, and a mixture of various other chemical variables. 

Tears. 

Gavin had  _tears_ in his eyes. 

RK900 tilted his head to the side, the LED slowly reverting back to yellow, and eventually back to blue. He reached up carefully, using his thumb to wipe the tears away. Gavin’s stern facial features instantly shifted to those of shock. He relaxed back off of his tip toes, maintaining eye contact with the android before him. 

“Why?” Gavin murmured, barely audible.

He didn’t seem to comprehend the question. “Why what?” RK900 questioned. 

“You know damn well what. Why did you do that? You came here to check up on me, so why are you still here? Why do you care?” He reached up and gripped the collar of the android’s jacket, shaking slightly again as he did. 

“I...” Another software instability warning popped up in his vision. He ignored it again, but continued to think about the question he had been asked. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure himself. For god’s sake, he was an _android,_ he shouldn’t have been able to care. Yet here he was, finding himself concerned for the asshole’s safety and well-being. “I’m not certain,” he started, “but I do not believe that’s the issue here.”

The officer raised an eyebrow. “Then what _is_ the issue?”  
  
“You. Your mental health is deteriorating.” 

Gavin stare d at him, as though he were unable to believe what was just said to him. “ I...” He hesitated for a moment, narrowing his eyes and looking down. “No, it isn’t. I’m fine.”

“Your increased heart rate says that’s a lie.”

“Oh, what the fuck do you know?”

“Quite a lot. I have looked at your case files from years ago. You have seen a lot.” The android maneuvered his hand back down to Gavin’s shoulder, but it was swatted away by the emotional individual before him. RK900 frowned at this. “Please, allow me to help-”

“You _can’t_ help me, you idiot!”  He shoved the man (did he really just consider this plastic prick a _man_?) back, and though he didn’t go far, it was enough of a distance for him to feel as though he had enough space to breathe again. “ Look, you just don’t fucking get it. You’re a machine, you can have bad memories and all that shit erased if necessary. Me? I can’t forget.” More tears pricked at the corners of Gavin’s eyes. Some of them spilled over the edge and trailed down his cheeks. “I know it doesn’t seem like much. Yeah, they’re just dead bodies and gross crime scenes. The same shit I signed up for and always see when I’m out in the field. But I’ve seen _so much_ of it. And after a while...” His legs started to tremble a bit. “After a while, you either get used to it, or it eats you alive.”

Silence fell upon the room. The only sounds were from Gavin, who seemed to be fighting off a full-blown panic attack.  His breathing was ragged, and the shaking of his legs had transferred throughout the rest of his body. RK900 slowly and cautiously moved around him, taking note of the jolting in Gavin’s reaction. He picked up the other man’s jacket, which had been carelessly thrown to the floor, and turned around. The garment was draped over his shoulders, causing another flinching session from him, but once he relaxed, he slowly worked his way into the jacket. Eventually, his shaking stopped completely, but his breathing still seemed a little strained. 

RK900 sighed softly, his  previous  irritation fading. “Look, Detective-”

“Gavin,” he interrupted, snorting a little. “Just call me Gavin. ‘Detective’ is for the office.”

“Right. Gavin. Listen… I cannot force you to speak to me about your problems. However, I can offer my company.” He placed his arms behind his back, seeming to be fixing his posture for an unknown reason. “Perhaps we have spoken about this enough for one night. Rest may be the best option for you.” 

He stood there in silence, seemingly processing the question. Eventually, Gavin nodded. “Uh, yeah. Probably.” He glanced at the clock next to the bed. Eleven thirty at night was far too late to get enough sleep for the next day, but he figured he would just hoard the coffee pot at his desk again. RK900 gestured to the bed, to which Gavin flopped down on almost instantly. He stared at the android, who was still standing at the foot of the bed, simply watching him. “You...can sleep here, if you want. I mean, you pricks don’t sleep, but there’s no reason to stand there and watch me like a fuckin’ creep.”

The android took the offer, laying down beside him. He lay there quite stiffly, as though he were a dead body posed in a coffin. For a little while, the two of them stayed in their same positions.  Then, out of nowhere, Gavin began to move. RK900 ignored it, instead choosing to stare at the bedroom door. When the man ended up on top of him, however, he became a little alarmed. He scanned the Detective, realizing he was already half asleep.  His LED flashed yellow, then cycled back to a calm blue as he placed his hands on Gavin’s back; in response, the man gripped his jacket a little. 

Somehow, that was how both of them remained throughout the hours of the night.

↤↤↤↤↤ -x- ↦↦↦↦↦

When Gavin awoke the next morning, the bright rays of the sun nearly blinded him. He groaned and attempted to roll over, but froze once he realized he had somehow ended up on his back. Chalking it up as he simply rolled over too hard, he reached a hand over, expecting to find the android who had been beside him in the same spot.

To his surprise, however, he wasn’t. 

Gavin sat up at this, looking around his room. It was void of other life, not even one of his cats had opted to walk in for a visit. He stood up and stretched, a few body parts cracking. He stumbled out of his room and wandered into the kitchen, where he found RK900 at the stove, working on some sort of food item.  
  
“Since when do tin cans need to eat?” Gavin asked, his eyebrow cocking in curiosity. The android glanced back for a second, then returned his attention to the pan before him.

“I don’t. You, however, do.” He raised the pan and flipped the food object, revealing it to be a pancake. “By the way, I took the liberty of calling you in sick.”

“And _why_ did you do that?”

“You slept in for a very long time. Past when you were to arrive there by three hours.”  
  
“What?” The Detective looked at the clock on the stove. Sure enough, it read noon. He almost couldn’t believe it. “Well shit...”

“It’s no big deal,” RK900 stated as he placed the pancake on a plate. He turned the stove off and put the pan in the sink. “Here, you really need to eat. I discovered you haven’t been doing so properly in a while.” He set the plate on the table, presenting the perfectly cooked food. 

Gavin was in shock. Nonetheless, he sat down while he continued to marvel at it. RK900 sat across from him, handing him a cup of coffee along with a knife and a fork. While Gavin began to eat, he noticed that the android was simply sitting there, staring at him. What was he doing that for?

_Oh, come on._

“I...guess I should uh. Thank you, or whatever.” He murmured it under his breath, but RK900 still managed to hear it. 

“For what?” he questioned, a small smirk gracing his facial features.

Gavin narrowed his eyes. “For coming here. And for this. These are really good pancakes.”

“It’s not a problem. I was simply following my mission."

At this, Gavin nearly choked. “He made it your mission to make sure I was okay?”

“Yes.”

It took a second for that to settle it. Gavin almost couldn’t believe it. “Hm.” He resumed eating, deciding it was best not to think about it.  Just like the night before, a silence fell upon the duo. The pitter-patter of claws on the linoleum floor and soft meows distracted the both of them. Gavin glanced down and smiled at his feline friends. “Hey, girls,” he whispered, picking the both of them up. RK900 took a mental note of this, watching as he stroked the animals’ fur. When Gavin noticed this, he grinned slightly. “Would you like to hold one of them?”

The android wasn’t really sure how to react. Gavin didn’t expect him to be sure, however; there was a very slim chance he had ever interacted with an animal. Instead of waiting for an answer, he reached over the table and placed the white cat on his lap. 

“That’s Marshmallow,” he started, laughing a little to himself when RK900 became alarmed, “and this is Spice. Be careful with them, they’re fragile.” 

He hesitated, but when the cat began to purr, RK900 seemed to relax. He patted her on the head gently, but aside from that, he just let her do whatever. Gavin continued eating, allowing the cat on his lap to stay there while he did. “Oh, one other thing,” he muttered. 

“And what is that?” 

“Don’t ever tell anyone about any of this, or I’ll break your fuckin’ neck.”

A soft chuckle came from RK900 at this. 

“Understood, Gavin.”

↤↤↤↤↤ -x- ↦↦↦↦↦


End file.
